Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
James is singing to Rhythm of Love by the Plain White T’s when he veers into the small car park next to my block of flats and it’s hard not to feel uplifted by the juvenile, carefree expression on his face. He throws his all into the words, pulling faces and twisting his body as if he’s on stage.
“Oh come on,” he says, turning the music down. “How can you not sing to this song?”
You’ve heard my singing voice. It’s not pretty. “Quite easily,” I reply, my expression stoic. I get out of the car without saying ‘See you tomorrow,’ because, as always, I’m not planning to accept another lift to work in the morning, even though I know I will.
I start walking down the concrete path to my building when I hear his car door close. Is he following me? I think, but I don’t turn around. Then he carries on singing the lyrics to Rhythm of Love, his hand appearing on my shoulder and spinning me around.
“Dance with me,” he says, positioning my arms into a tango position.
He sways me from side to side, still singing, still smiling, and as much as I don’t want to, I give in and laugh. “What’s gotten into you? People will stare at us!”
“So?”
He twirls me around and grinds our hips together, in the middle of a public car park in broad frigging daylight…and I let him, because it’s fun. Until two teenage girls walk past, pointing and giggling like we’ve just escaped from an asylum.
Pulling back, unable to stop smiling, I shake my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
James grins, that smug half-smile that annoys me so much. “That’s all I wanted from you.”
Seriously? He did all that because I didn’t say I’d see him tomorrow? It frustrates me that I’ve given him exactly what he wants. “You’re such a wanker.”
“A wanker who’ll see you at eight AM sharp.” He winks and it makes me feel giddy. I don’t let it show, or so I think before the smarmy twat smiles even wider. “Good night, Theodore.”
Don’t reply. Don’t reply. “Good night, James.”
For fuck’s sake.
Chapter Four
~James~
Ten days later…
I’m in a foul mood. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been in my office since four AM, or because Theodore got his car back two days ago. I’d enjoyed bringing him to and from work. It broke up the monotony of the mornings and put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.
I miss it.
My initial goal was to soften him enough to get back in his pants, yet weirdly, I feel an even greater sense of satisfaction from the fact he no longer looks at me like he wants to ram his knuckles into my face. Each day, he’s become a little more willing to answer my questions. He’s stopped hesitating. He’s fun, and that’s a new experience for me. I want, need more, even if that makes me the most selfish guy on the planet.
The only thing I miss is that he doesn’t blush as easily anymore. I need to work on that.
The building is deserted on a Saturday and I’m enjoying the calm. I’m easily distracted of late, making concentrating difficult, so I use the quiet of the weekend to catch up on all the loose ends left over from last week.
I’m reading through the contract my solicitor has drawn up for the new magazine deal when there’s an unexpected knock on my door. My brother, Max, walks in before I can answer. He’s only three years older than me but he dresses like an old man. Today, he looks like he’s off to the golf course, dressed in an argyle jumper and beige trousers. The funny thing is he’s never picked up a club in his life. “The bald guy on reception let me in,” he explains. “What are you doing here on a Saturday? And why aren’t you answering your phone?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and stuff the contract back in its envelope. “I had a backlog to clear. Saturday’s the perfect time. No interruptions.”
“On your birthday?” Max produces the hand he’s been hiding behind his back and passes me a small box wrapped in silver paper with a card taped to the top.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile as I take it from him. I put it on my desk, knowing it contains my annual bottle of Armani aftershave without needing to open it.
“If you’re not doing anything to celebrate, Laura and I would love to have you over for dinner.”
“Sorry, Max. I’m going out with some friends.” He knows I’m lying. I’m not a ‘friends’ kind of man. “Another time, though,” I add. I doubt he believes that either.
“Isobel misses you.”
It’s a low blow, playing the niece card. She’s only three. I’m not sure a child that age is even capable of missing someone.
“I’ll come over, I promise.” I take a deep breath and force myself to say it before I change my mind. “Next Friday. I’ll come round after I’ve finished here.”
Max smiles but doesn’t look altogether convinced. I can’t blame him for being sceptical, but I will stick to my word, if only to keep him off my back for a couple of months.
“I’ll let Laura know. I’ll invite Mum, too.”
“Sure.” I start replying to an email that can really wait until Monday, but it makes me look busy and I hope Max will take the hint and leave. He’s a great brother, and I love him, I’m just not in the mood for him today. For anyone.
“I can see you’re busy. I’ll get going.”
“Sorry.” I’m really not. “I have to get things finished here.”
“No problem. Don’t spend all day here though, eh? You should be enjoying today.”
Why? It’s no different to all the other days of my fucked-up existence. “I will. Just later.”
Max turns for the door, pausing when he reaches it. “And don’t forget to call Mum. She tried this morning but couldn’t reach you either.”
“Will do.” And I will, but again, later. I’m grateful she’s staying with a friend in London this weekend so I don’t have to see her. I don’t celebrate my birthday and my mum is just another person I need to pretend for.